Afterwards
by Lexie Jayne
Summary: Afterwards, they couldn't look at each other. Afterwards, there was no tears PostAJBAC


AN: I was experimenting with this writing style. I'd really appreciate some constructive critisim.  
  
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Afterwards, they couldn't look at each other. Afterwards, there were no words or tears. Just shallow breathing and silence. For once in their lives, they entrusted Lydecker with their lives and let him drive them back to that empty warehouse in Seattle.  
  
Looking at each other hurt too much; blonde hair and blue eyes reminded him of a guardian, of a commanding officer. Dark hair and dark eyes reminded her of the sister she never had time for, in a childhood no one wanted to remember.  
  
So they said good bye for the first time in their lives. It wasn't planned at all. The idea never occurred to them. But as Lydecker pulled the van into the warehouse, and left them alone, they didn't talk. They packed up their things and silently left. No tearful good byes or a gripping hug that left each other feeling like they couldn't survive without each other.  
  
They were two halves of a whole; no matter how much big brother nagged and yelled, they stayed together. No matter how bad, how scary or how dark their lives got, they always had each other.  
  
And then it was over.  
  
Suddenly, there was no one waiting for her when she got home from work. No one keeping the rooms full. Just empty, silent dullness.  
  
She'd lie in bed in the early hours of the morning, thinking of something she'd need to tell him. But she'd get up and he wouldn't be there; he had no room in this apartment.  
  
Sometimes, she'd cry for him. Not for her fallen siblings, but for the man who was only three states over, only a phone call away. She'd roughly wipe away the tears and pretend they never happened.   
  
He'd lie in bed for hours, waiting for her petite figure to appear in his doorway, to climb in next to him and cuddle up to his side, like the kitten one of their neighbours had once had. But he'd jerk awake in the early hours before dawn and his bed would be cold and he would be alone.  
  
There was no one to joke with, no one to look forward to, no one there. Wasted smiles, wasted jokes. There were tears once, but never again. He mourned her more than he mourned his dead twin sister. But not once could he bring himself to dial her last known number, and say her name. It was over.  
  
Some people say leaving is worse than death; death is like a clean break, no going back. Leaving is only half way, the chance you could indulge your whims and fancies. You wanted everything back how it was before.  
  
Days melted into weeks and months and years before anything else happened. Five years. No talking, no communication. Then the brother they lost came back. Max had been living in Seattle, after escaping, for five years and they had never known.  
  
He thought about it, and wondered if only Zack had died that night, they might have been able to stay together. Maybe if Max had called and told them she was okay, it would change things.  
  
But there was no use pinning fault to past regrets. What was done, was done and nothing could change the past for them.   
  
Zack was surprised and shocked at their parting. Five years. Could've been a lifetime, they'd all changed so much. Zack talked to her, wanting to know where it had all gone around.  
  
It was in Crash, that it ended, and it started again. Almost exactly five years since their split. They were five years older and wiser and everything could change without any notice.  
  
She was leaning against the bar, getting another pitcher of beer, her long blonde hair loose. He walked over, leaning against the bar next to her.  
  
"Hey."  
  
"Hey."  
  
"Wanna come back to my place tonight?" he asked softly, wanting to stroke her hair, but not feeling like he had the right.  
  
"It's been a while since you talked a woman into coming home with you, hasn't it?" she tossed her hair around, smirking at him.  
  
"A while," he replied, a smile playing around his lips. "I missed you."  
  
"I missed you too. But…" she paused and bit her lip.  
  
"But what?" he asked, suddenly concerned.  
  
"Doesn't matter," she said, so quietly he almost missed it.  
  
And it was good. They had each other again. And that meant no matter what else happened, they'd be okay. Because what happened yesterday doesn't matter today.  
  
Syl leant over, her blonde hair like a curtain and she kissed him. "I love you, Krit. And I'm sorry."  
  
"I'm sorry too, Kitten," Krit replied softly, stroking her cheek.  
  
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Now I can get on my soap box. Please go here - http://www.twisted-logic.com/syl_n_krit I am desperate for some more S/K or S or K fic for the archive. Please :) 


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